Inconvenient
by skyeward
Summary: The urge always strikes her at the most inconvenient possible moment...and she's not happy about who comes to mind, either.


The urge struck her, as it always did, at the most inconvenient possible time - mostly likely because as far as Hope was concerned, it was always the most inconvenient possible time. She did not enjoy the reminder that she was just as much a slave to her body, at times, as any other human being, did not enjoy being weak to the curve of a hip or the delicate column of a bare throat.

She nearly dragged the clone back to the shithole they shared on an obscure planet on the fringes of human-controlled space, leaving it to study recordings of Miranda Lawson's pet project. "Get the accent down," she snapped on her way out of the room, "You'll never convince anyone if you don't even speak correctly. And don't bother me."

The door locked behind her with a satisfying click, and she turned to dig through the tiny dresser she'd claimed as her own, searching for a small tool that she hadn't needed in a long time. Clicking it on to check the batteries, she nodded in satisfaction at the strong, steady buzz. There would be no wasted time.

Clothing was stripped off efficiently, folded neatly and set to one side - she would be needing them again soon. She laid back on the bed, legs spread and knees bent, and clicked the device on again, not hesitating in the slightest as she settled it just where she needed it, the buzz echoing up through her hips and belly. She was determined to get this over with as quickly as possible, and that determination showed in her face, eyes open and staring blankly up at the ceiling, mouth set in a straight line.

Her hips rocked into the touch of her vibrator, but already she could tell she would get no relief from this - the pleasure felt hollow, distant, a sure sign that even orgasm would engender no slackening of need. She cursed silently and allowed her mind, as she so infrequently did, to drift.

It settled, with a speed that infuriated her, on a certain Cerberus officer, genetic perfection with the confidence to match. Miranda bloody Lawson, she hissed mentally, absolutely incensed by the way her body gave back a full, sharp pleasure now, just from the mental image of direct blue eyes. Scowling, she took control of the fantasy. She felt much better once she was in full control of her thoughts and feelings again, and even better once she'd put the finishing touches on a new image of Lawson: bound and gagged, kneeling with her arms bound behind her and Hope's boot between her thighs.

In her mind _she reached out to grasp a handful of that thick dark hair, yanked out the gag and forced Lawson's mouth between her thighs, groaning appreciatively when that soft pink tongue went to work._ In her bed, her teeth clenched, hips stuttering upwards against the relentless buzz of her vibrator as pleasure burned rich and hot through her blood. She was on fire, and her imagination only got better by the second.

_She yanked back on Miranda's head, grinding her boot harder between lush thighs and smirking as the kneeling woman rubbed herself against the hardened leather. "Please," cried Hope's toy, "Please let me…!"_

_"Please let you what, __**bitch**__?" Hope laughed cruelly, twisting her handful of hair until the other woman cried out in pain._

The cry of pain, even only in her head, sent a fresh surge of electricity up from her belly and down her limbs, tingling on the edge of pain. She was close, and she glared up at the ceiling, commanding her body to hurry it up…although her fantasy was more than pleasurable.

_"Let me please you," Miranda sobbed, straining forward against Hope's hand to try and slip between her thighs again. "Please, Mistress!"_

_"Very well," the smaller woman smirked, slowly moving her hand and enjoying the way Miranda pulled her own hair in her desperation to service her owner. She hissed with pleasure when the hot mouth moved back into place, tongue lapping eagerly at Hope's need. "That's right, you stupid genetic mutt, serve your betters!"_

_And serve Miranda did; it was no more than a minute later that Hope's belly - and fist - clenched sharply, her pleasure coating the kneeling woman's tongue. She ground herself into Miranda's face for a few extra seconds, then flung her away onto the floor, turning away and abandoning the bound operative as she begged and pled._

It took much longer than usual for Hope's body to loosen after orgasm, for the bolts of heat to finish lancing through her body, but eventually she collapsed, shuddering still, onto the bed. She clicked the vibrator off impatiently and tried to will herself to stand - her needs had been assuaged, so there was no reason to remain in bed any longer.

Still, she did herself no favours by attempting to stand when her limbs still trembled with weakness. A moment or two wouldn't hurt anything - the clone was occupied and they had nothing whatsoever to do that day.

She'd just resigned herself to remaining prone until her body was fully under her control again when a knock sounded on the door, followed by one of the sounds she least wanted to hear at the moment - the clone's voice.

"Irene?" The name she was using at the moment. "I thought I heard-"

The lamp crashed against the door with a satisfyingly loud noise, and the clone was silent.

Well, at least its accent was getting better.


End file.
